"Mother!"
Alice sprawled beside Madame de La Rochefoucauld's bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Anyone who did not know better would have thought she was already dead.
Georgiana reeked of alcohol. She felt that going in at a time like this would only make things worse, so she backed out again.
The corridors were filled with guards, but that meant fewer men were stationed on the walls and guarding the gardens. There were only 150 guards in total, and they had to rotate shifts. Some also had to escort Georgiana to Brussels for social engagements.
If Josephine had come to Belgium this time, wearing jewels far more expensive than Georgiana's, would she have suffered a similar attack?
In the end, perhaps it was because Georgiana had too much sympathy, making others think they could take advantage of her.
How much more would she have to go through before she learned her lesson?
She unconsciously touched her stomach.
Not everyone was bad, but bad people had the means and ability to make themselves look like victims, like people deserving of sympathy.
Marie Antoinette had demanded to know why Josephine was lying in her bed at the Tuileries Palace. Josephine had been terrified and never dared visit the Tuileries Palace again, yet she had still had the nerve to covet the Queen's jewels.
Georgiana would never criticize Josephine again. She herself was not necessarily all that clever or wise.
All she could say was that nature was hard to change.
For women, marriage was like an acceptance letter from Hogwarts. You could accept it, or refuse it. Once you accepted it, it meant a new life, a new future, and a new identity. You were no longer the person you had been. You were a wizard or witch.
That sense of novelty lasted for a